


Welcome to the new Age.

by Lestradesexwife



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Sherlock, Collars, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hand Jobs, Infidelity, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Oral Sex, Sub!John, dom!Greg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:05:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1205461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/pseuds/Lestradesexwife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is divided into Doms and subs. John and Sherlock's relationship is atypical, and John vents to Greg.</p><p>Greg cures everything with sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_xmasmurder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/gifts).



> It should be noted that the opinions expressed by the characters regarding dominant and submissive roles in no way reflect the opinions of the author. These guys have a not always healthy relationship with sexual desire and the fulfillment thereof. 
> 
> Also there is some discussion of internalized/societal issues with sub/Dom and gender, sexuality and just general historical people not being nice and understanding to each other.

The more John talks about it the angrier Greg becomes, “You mean to say, the two of you aren’t?”

 

John sighs and tips his pint glass, rolling the dregs of his second pint around in the bottom of his glass. “No... He’s married to the work, whatever that means. I’m just the one who does the shopping and cleans up the body parts from the fridge.”

 

Greg’s fingers clench under the table, digging grooves into his thighs rather than making fists. “Jesus, John. I’m sorry, I always figured you wear your collar open... well I never thought he hadn’t collared you... Just...”

 

“That I’m a modern sub who doesn’t need to have his collar closed in public to be a person and taken seriously. I’m a doctor and a soldier, Greg, not some poor Victorian boy chained to the bedposts.”

 

“No. Shit... of course not. John.” Greg’s eyes are hard. “He shouldn’t, I mean, if he isn’t even... I mean, I’ve seen the way you two are together, but if he isn’t giving you what you need?”

 

“He isn’t abusing me Greg, I’m just frustrated. The way he is... doesn’t give me much of a chance for anything else.” John squeezes his eyes shut. “Yeah, I’m going to stop talking now.” He drops his head and stares through the bottom of the glass at the pattern of scratches on the table. 

 

Greg doesn’t mean to but he reaches out and grips the back of John’s neck, his fingers catching in John’s short cropped hair. The pub is loud enough that Greg feels rather than hears the sound John makes, but there is no mistaking the shift in John’s body towards him. “I prefer women, John.”

 

“Me too... but.” John flexes his shoulders under Greg’s hand, encouraging contact. “You know.”

 

“Yeah.” Greg knows, male subs are generally viewed as homosexual, female Doms too. “That’s a load of rubbish though... and we don’t have to.” Greg pulls his hand from John’s shoulders and picks up his empty pint glass, the cool glass shocking after the warmth of John’s skin. 

 

“We could, though? I mean if you don’t mind.” John swallows the _Sherlock likes you enough. I don’t think he would run you off._

 

Greg considers before speaking, “I’d want it to be a regular thing, not just one night. You know how I am...” Greg feels a spike of guilt, taking advantage of John’s relationship with Sherlock to get a regular leg over, without all the work of actually maintaining a relationship. “Or I could have a word with Sherlock... make sure he knows he needs to give something back.”

 

John snorts and empties his glass, grimacing at the idea and the flat beer. “No, I think... I think we can negotiate a mutually beneficial arrangement. He might not even notice, if you talked to him, which thanks... but i’m still not chattel Greg. And...” John gestures with his pint glass, spinning out implications in the air.

 

Greg’s mind fills with all the ways an annoyed Sherlock could seek revenge. “Sorry. I try... Lord knows Rebecca made me read enough books on curbing dominant ‘instincts’.” He puts the air quotes around the words. “I try, I really do...” _not that it did me any good with Rebecca._

 

“Yeah, I know. Actually.” John shudders and the stone-age Dom in Greg growls, hairs standing up on the back of his neck and arms; knowing John is thinking about Greg’s _other_ dominant instincts. 

 

“I think we should go... yours or mine?” 

 

“Ah... yeah, yours I think.”

 

The bar’s automatic breathalyser clears Greg and releases his keys and they push out into the warm summer night. Greg takes a moment on the pavement to remember where his car is, to remember where his flat is, because just maybe he’s in a parallel universe where he is taking John Watson home for a shag (the first of many), and it’s possible that everything has switched sides while they were in the pub. 

 

John stands just behind him on the pavement, waiting for Greg to lead the way. Greg shifts his shoulders, straightening his spine and standing taller, because the idea of John being his is suddenly real and incredibly hot. Greg turns towards his car, walks quickly across the car park, but not so quickly that John has to lengthen his stride to keep up. Greg wants to hold the car door open for John but he knows that John would probably take it the wrong way, so instead he chirps the fob on his keys and climbs in the driver’s side. 

 

John settles into the seat and buckles up, the car starts automatically once they are both strapped in and Greg maneuvers out onto the mostly deserted street. “Any rules I should know about?”

 

“Whatever Anderson might say... I’m not actually a masochist. I don’t like pain, I get enough of that the rest of my day. Safeword is ginger.” John covers his mouth and looks out the window.  

 

Greg smiles and rests his hand on John’s thigh for the rest of the ride to his flat. Greg does hold the door to the flat open for John, hears the muttered “Chivalry,” under John’s breath and blushes. 

 

“Sorry, do you want anything?”

 

“Water, please.”

 

Greg goes into the tiny kitchen, pulls down two glasses and checks them for spots before he runs the tap until the water turns icy under his fingers. Back in the tiny sitting room he marshals his thoughts and hands over a glass to John.

 

“I want to say, thank you John. Sherlock’s been... well nearly human since you came along. I know he’s not easy to deal with. You’re doing an amazing job.”

 

“I don’t need false praise, Lestrade. He’s an insufferable git, same as always.”

 

Greg grits his teeth and sips his water, “Nothing false about it. I’m... you can’t see it, you never saw him before. I think... we’d have had to have him sectioned, if you hadn’t come along. He never told me exactly what happened, Mycroft had to get involved... stopped that last landlord from... I dunno, pressing charges, suing maybe. A hefty chunk of money to settle out of court anyway. Mrs. Hudson only said she’d take him if he found someone else to share the flat.”

 

John sets the glass down gently. “He’s not unstable.”

 

“No, he’s not... now.”

 

John’s shoulders collapse and Greg curses under his breath, “He’s still a bastard for not taking better care of you, John.” Greg drains his glass and sets it down next to John’s. “We don’t need to do anything. You can just stay here tonight, and we will go shout at him in the morning.”

 

“ **Fuck.** You sound like the back of a bloody pamphlet on “Controlling your dominant side. Sherlock Holmes isn’t my Dom.” John’s eyes are a sharp-bright challenge.

 

“Right. Drink that. Bedroom is at the end of the hall.” Greg watches as John downs the water in three long gulps, wicked grin growing on his face as he watches John’s throat work. “That’s a good boy. Kit off too I think.” He tilts his head towards the hallway and John puts the glass carefully back on the table, walking calmly out of Greg’s sight. 

 

Greg checks the lock on the door of the flat and stops by the sideboard, slipping his fingers into the drawer he finds the lock by feel and slips it into his pocket. He pulls his phone out and shuts the ringer off, leaving it on the sideboard before heading to the bedroom. 

 

The Dominant in him growls, because he might prefer women, but there is something deeply primal and intoxicating about walking into a room and finding a naked sub waiting for _you,_ kneeling or not, hard or not. “John, you are a work of beauty.” stripes of streetlight through the blinds on smooth skin and bowed head. Greg crosses the room, pulling the lock from his pocket left pocket and reaching out to tilt John’s head up with his right. “Just for tonight, yeah?”

 

“Just tonight.” Consent and a hint of a question.

 

Greg thumbs the catch on John’s collar closed and clicks the lock, letting it fall against John’s throat. “For now. One day at a time.”

 

John’s eyes fall and his hands clench.

 

“John.” 

 

John relaxes, pressing against Greg’s leg. “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t be... I can. Whenever you need.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Greg runs his hand through John’s hair, holding him for a beat before moving to the bed and pulling the box from underneath it. “Just standard fare, it’s been awhile since I used any of this stuff.” He pushes the box in front of John. “Pick what you want, there’s cleanser in there too... probably dusty.” 

 

John opens the lid and stares at the contents for several seconds, almost long enough that Greg considers ordering him to choose something. John inhales sharply and pulls the lead out of the box, setting it on the floor. He also pulls out lube, condoms and the dildo. 

 

“Can I wash this?”

 

Greg gestures at the door of the en suite and John rises, carefully unfolding from his pose and heading for the loo. 

 

John doesn’t close the door and Greg listens to the sound of water. “Clean towel in the top cabinet.” The water shuts off and John comes back to stand at the end of the bed, clean towel and sex toy clutched gently in his hands.

 

“Show me what you would do. If you were alone.”

 

“I don’t know... I...” John fidgets and sets down the towel on the end of the bed. 

 

“I want to see what you like, John. Show me.”

 

John drops the toy onto the towel and bends to pick up the rest of his chosen supplies. He puts the condoms down on the nightstand, drops the rest beside his toy and looks over his shoulder at Greg. “You’re going to watch?”

 

“For now.”

 

John nods and unravels the lead, fingers steady when he finds knots. He measures it off and loops it around the post on the headboard, moves his toys up towards the head of the bed and then positions himself on all fours facing the headboard. He sighs, lifts the pillow and puts it behind him, out of Greg’s line of sight. John’s hand is steady as he clips the lead to his collar, backs up until the lead is tight.

 

John twists and balances his weight on his left arm, then pulls back further as he frees both hands and balances on his knees. He lubes the fingers of his right hand and twists, catching himself on his left hand as he contorts to push his fingers into his hole. 

 

Greg moves to the side of the bed, standing so he can watch John work himself open. Makes a noise of appreciation as John slides in a third finger. John’s head drops and his hips stutter, pushing back against his hand.

 

“That’s good, John.” Greg wants to stroke John, pet him through his preparations, but he also doesn’t want to distract John from his pleasure. Greg won’t deny that watching John is making him hard, but it really is about John, and the best way to know John’s limits are to have him demonstrate them. 

 

John presses as deep as the awkward angle will allow and opens his fingers as far as he can, the strangled moan he produces means he’s not entirely prepared to be pushing this quickly. 

 

“There’s no rush, take the time you need.” Greg smiles as John’s hand slows. “That’s better. Well done, John.”

 

John chokes on a moan, more pleasured this time and works his fingers deeper. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on his back when he finally removes his fingers and lubes up the dildo. Greg hums in contentment as the toy sinks smoothly into John’s arse. 

 

“Good. John, so good.”

 

“Please.” John doesn’t finish the thought, holds the base of the toy and sets a quick hard pace, short sharp thrusts that must brush his prostate. He keens once before he bites his lip and drops his head between his shoulders. 

 

Greg watches until he is sure that he knows the angles and speeds that will best please John. “There now, can you come like this?”

 

John grunts something that sounds affirmative.

 

“Words, John.”

 

“Yes, please, I want to.”

 

Greg rests his hand on John’s shoulder, pushing gently down until John’s chest meets the bedding. He twists his face to the side to shift the position of the lead and drops his arm to the bed, letting Greg take over the motion of the toy. Greg resumes the same pace and depth and smiles as John melts under his hands, tension sliding from John’s muscles. John whimpers and then even his moans take on a freer quality. “That’s it, John. I’ve got you, I want you to come for me.”

 

Greg’s fingers tighten on John’s shoulder, pull him back and rock him forward with the force of his thrusts. 

 

“Come for me, John. You’re beautiful like this.” Greg pushes the toy deeper, pulling back a bit harder on John’s shoulder to stretch the lead. John’s strangled gasp sends a thrill through Greg, but he loosens his grip, tries to quash the thrill from John’s harsh indrawn breath. “Sorry.”

 

“More please, Greg.”

 

Greg growls and pushes harder, rocking John back with each thrust, gaining a little gasp from John every time. “That’s a good boy, John.” Greg slides the toy almost free, watches John strain against the lead, chasing the sensation, before he slides back home, pulling John back onto the toy as much as he presses it forward. He leans over John, savours the drag of his clothing over John’s skin. “I said come.”

 

John does, a strangled cry and arched back, pushing himself into as much contact with Greg as possible. 

 

Greg lets him ride the toy through his orgasm; smiling as John’s hips twitch at every movement of the toy inside him, crooning praises and stroking sweat damp skin with his free hand. 

 

When John tries to shift up onto his palms from his elbows Greg pulls the toy free, drops it near the foot of the bed, watches John’s body adjust. Greg slides his fingers under John’s collar, holding him steady while he unclips the lead. John shivers under Greg’s hand and Greg shushes him. “Just let me.” Greg unwraps the lead from the bedpost and clips it back on John’s collar, Greg releases John’s collar but wraps the end of the lead around his hand.  “There. Better?”

 

Greg picks up the towel and wipes John down, makes a show of swiping at the bedding, although he finds himself unable to be concerned with the state of his sheets. Greg maneuvers them until John is curled at his side, head on Greg’s shoulder. Greg shifts the lead to his left hand, playing the slack over his own stomach. He curls his right hand and runs his fingers through John’s hair. “Thank you, John. It’s been ages since I’ve put someone under like that.”

 

Flat on his back Greg’s erection is painfully obvious, but he’s ignoring it in favour of stroking John’s hair, letting the sensation soothe both of them.

 

John twines his fingers in the lead, causing prickles of sensation from the points of contact on Greg’s chest. “I forget sometimes what it is like to properly go under. I never really manage it on my own.” John untangles his fingers and strokes down Greg’s shirt front, letting the tip of his finger catch on each of the buttons. 

 

Greg sighs and pulls on the lead. “You don’t have to do that.”

 

“I don’t mind. I’m actually pretty good at it.” 

 

A second jerk on the lead stills John’s hand. “Of course you are. Not minding... isn’t actually the same. I’m not interested in coercion. You don’t owe me anything either.”

 

“The thing is... I don’t get... much chance, lately... to... But it is something that I... I mean when I can, I like it a bit.”

 

Greg closes his eyes, finds that his hand tangled in John’s hair is not actually helping his concentration or blood flow issues. Greg should turn him down, should be the better Dom, provide for John in the one aspect that Sherlock neglects. He should do that, keep this as... utilitarian, professional or detached as he can. “I don’t want to make this complicated. It doesn’t need to... You don’t need to reciprocate.”

 

“You can’t tell me it hasn’t been ages for you too and then expect me not to...” John’s fingers begin to slowly wander again, picking open the buttons of Greg’s shirt as he goes. “What’s the word for it? Friends with Benefits. You need someone to take _care_ of you too.”

 

Greg gives John the slack he needs on the lead to reposition himself at the foot of the bed, between Greg’s legs. 

 

“Please say I can, Greg?” John’s eyes are wide and guileless but his smile is wicked and his tone teasing.

 

“John Watson, you are a bad man.” Greg jerks the lead, pulling John down towards his cock. “Go on then, if you are so eager.”

 

John works open Greg’s fly, pulls his trouser and pants down far enough to give himself free access to Greg’s cock. 

 

“Shit, wait. Condom.” Greg flails out with his free hand and snags a package from the nightstand. John makes a face but takes the package and rips it open, giving Greg’s cock two incredibly light tugs before rolling the condom on. 

 

“It isn’t because...”

 

“I know,” John licks a stripe up Greg’s shaft, mouth loose and wet. “I don’t have to like it... but I know it is better this way.” John plants a kiss on the head of Greg’s cock, and then flicks his tongue over the head of Greg’s cock, rolling the tip of his tongue around the condom, teasing contacts that make Greg arch his hips up towards John. 

 

John pulls back as Greg pushes forward, swirls his tongue at the tip of Greg’s cock but doesn’t let Greg push any deeper. Greg groans and wraps the lead around his hand until it is tight. John gives a contented sigh as he’s prevented from pulling any further back, but at this angle Greg can’t push any further up in John’s mouth, his fingers tangle in John’s hair and he pulls, relaxing back onto the mattress as John’s mouth engulfs his cock. “That’s my good boy, can you take all of it?”

 

The vibration in John’s throat sets off something in Greg, because it has been too long since someone has done this for him, too many nights with just his hand and imagination. Greg watches John’s mouth slide deeper over his cock, finds the spot where John’s gag reflex kicks in and pulls him back up. “That’s good, John. Hold still now and let me fuck you.”

 

John groans again and tenses, bracing himself on his arms as Greg’s fingers tangle tighter in his hair. 

 

Greg thrusts, slow and shallow at first, savouring the glide of John’s tongue and lips. Greg tries for more praise, but only manages to grind out “ _Fuck, yeah.”_ before he’s thrusting quick and deep into John’s mouth. 

 

John’s mouth is hot and slick and Greg tries to watch, but then John hums around him and Greg can’t keep his head up to see. He throws his head back and pulls John down against him twice, inhaling deeply through his nose before moving John’s head slowly. Drawing out the process and bringing his heart rate back under control. “You have to work for it, baby boy.” Greg’s fingers comb through John’s hair, soothing. “Make me feel good.”

 

John hums again and braces on his right elbow, working to his own pace, eyes closed, tongue somehow everywhere on Greg’s cock. Greg lifts his head, turns awkwardly on the bed to pull the pillow towards him and under his neck. “That’s a good boy, _fuck_.” He wishes he had a cigarette, but settles for running his hands through John’s hair and the occasional twitch of his hips when John needs encouragement.

 

John’s hips start to twitch and roll against the mattress. “Does my cock in your mouth turn you on, baby?”

 

John groans and rolls his hips with purpose. 

 

“Greedy.” The idea of making John come again sparks along Greg’s nerves and he holds John firmly, pumping just the way he likes until the sensation of friction melts into warmth and electricity along all his nerve endings.

 

John groans and sucks hard, prolonging Greg’s orgasm and earning him a groaned “John!” from Greg’s lips. 

 

Greg allows John to rest against his thigh while he heaves in air and slowly regains control over his body. He fights against the lethargy that comes with the post-high chemicals, there are steps that need to be taken before he can sleep, not least of which is the slight movement of John’s body against the mattress. Greg jerks the lead. “Stop.”

 

John goes still beneath him and Greg suppresses the pang of guilt. “I didn’t say you could get off... yet.” Greg pulls gently on the lead, pulling John up until he is kneeling and Greg has room to swing his legs off the bed. “Up.”

 

John follows him off the end of the bed, sliding to the floor. 

 

Greg tugs the lead down. “Kneel.” 

 

John folds down onto the carpet and Greg lets the lead pool beside John’s knees. “Stay.”

 

John’s fingers clench on his thighs and his head drops between his shoulders. Greg runs gentle fingers over John’s hair. “Good boy.”

 

Greg leaves John kneeling on the floor and steps into the en suite, strips off and bins the condom and runs his hands under the tap. “Do you want more water?” 

 

“Please.”

 

Greg pours a glass of water for himself and drinks it, staring in the mirror over the sink, trying to plan the next hour, the next day and the next year. He refills the glass and heads back into the bedroom, holds the glass in front of John’s eyes and smiles when he takes it. Greg doesn’t stand over John as he drinks, turns back the bed clothes instead. When he turns his head he sees john rolling the empty glass between his hands. Greg reaches down and takes it from him, staring at the mixed smudge of their fingerprints instead of meeting John’s eyes. 

 

“I’m not old fashioned, John. I’ll let you choose. You can come to bed with me, and I’ll touch you, bring you off again. And then we sleep. Or you can have a wank there on the floor while I watch. And then you come to bed and we sleep.”

 

John doesn’t fidget, he’s so still Greg thinks he has done something wrong. 

 

“You’d like to watch?”

 

“Hmm, yes. There is something... about seeing someone give themselves pleasure. Even watching, I’m affecting it... but it is as close to true, pure, pleasure as we can get.”

 

“Effecting.”

 

Greg raises an eyebrow, and the corner of his lip, half a smile for the obvious Sherlockism. 

 

John smiles and looks away. “Can I come to bed?” His face and neck colour. “I mean I can... if you’d rather watch.”

 

“C’mere.” Greg gathers John up into his arms and they settle together on the bed. Greg pulls the blankets up over them and John curls onto his side, edging towards the side of the bed. 

 

Greg pulls him back towards the centre of the mattress and slides his arm under John’s head. “I’d love to take you out.” Greg pushes his nose behind John’s ear and runs his fingers over John’s ribs. “I know this quiet little club, tasteful you know.” His hand wraps around John’s cock and pulls gently, causing John’s body to arch back into him. “That’s my boy.” Greg’s cock is half hard and he slots himself between John’s arse cheeks, shifts his hips to meet the arch of John’s back. “I’d have you suck me off, there’s these great leather arm chairs. Very nice.” 

 

John groans and pushes back against Greg’s cock. Greg shifts until John’s head is resting on his shoulder and he can wrap his arm around John’s body, pulling him closer, tracing over John’s chest until he finds a nipple and pinches it lightly.

 

“ _Fuck,_ please Greg.”

 

“Hmm... yeah I think I’d like to fuck you, maybe in the morning yeah?” Greg pulls John closer and speeds his hand on John’s cock. This angle feels natural, and it is almost bizarre not to feel his hand on his own cock. “Fill you up? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

 

“Yes, please... please please please, _please._ ”

 

“Fuck you tomorrow morning... take you out tomorrow night. Put you down on your knees and watch you make yourself come. Slide my fingers into you right before you come...”

 

John’s heart pounds hard enough Greg can feel it through his chest, the stuttering thump matched with the pulse of John’s cock in Greg’s hand as John comes. 

 

John’s breath comes fast and hot, mouth open and panting. “Fuck.”

 

“Yeah, you are gorgeous when you come.” Greg wipes his hand on John’s hip and the sheets. “I could get used to making you do it.” Greg smiles as the noise John makes in response is mostly positive, but also sleep drenched. “Good boy.”

 

Greg tangles his feet between John’s and sighs, inhaling the smell of sweat and sex. His cock twitches, softening, a reminder that there is time in the morning for more. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning sex, who doesn't love a good morning fuck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on writing this, and forgot to take the lead off John's collar in the excitement of the end of the first chapter. Please read it as having been removed at some point before they went to sleep.

John wakes, slow and sated, too warm to wake suddenly, too comfortable to wonder why he is in a strange bed. And then there is the cock, hard and hot, pressed between his arse cheeks and the warm heavy arm thrown over his tummy. John stretches into the contact, presses himself closer, because Greg _had_ promised to fuck him in the morning. 

 

Greg wakes with a groan and a roll of his hips. “ _John_.” Exhaled on John’s nape, the warmth of it makes his nipples tighten and his eyes slide closed.

 

Greg’s hand slides, barely a brush of fingers over John’s skin, and finds one of John’s nipples, flicks the edge of his thumb over it. John exhales a small noise and cants his hips back, savours the slide of cock over his hole. Greg draws his fingernails over John’s stomach, not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough that John _feels_ him, and finds John’s cock. Greg wraps his fingers around the shaft, pulls his arm tight around John’s body and holds him there, rocking his hips into John’s arse.

 

John doesn’t try to move against Greg’s hand, feels himself slide; deep and warm and willing into Greg’s embrace.

 

“That’s a good boy, John. Let me take care of you.” Greg’s hand tightens, pulls twice on John’s cock, his hips give two sharp matching thrusts.

 

John groans and adjusts his legs to make more room for Greg between his legs. “God, yes. Please, Greg... I want you to...” John bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut. He shouldn’t be asking for more than what Greg is already giving him, but he wants... yeah he wants everything. He wants this sleepy morning fuck and he wants Greg to strap him to the headboard and fuck him until he begs. He wants to sit at Greg’s feet and wait, wants the lock on his collar to be something permanent. 

 

Greg’s hand rolls over John’s foreskin, literally pulling him back to the moment with a spike of pleasure. “You want it like this? I could fuck you, nice and slow, make you forget what it felt like before I was inside you.”

 

John bites back a whimper, pushing closer, even though there is already so little space between them.

 

“Let me get...” Greg’s hands pull away, his body rolls out of contact with John. 

 

John knows... he does... that Greg is only stretching, reaching for the lube and condoms that lie in wait on Greg’s nightstand, knows that he can wait until Greg comes back, that Greg will come back. He takes comfort in the sounds, wrapper opening, lube being applied, the not quite sound of skin on the sheets as Greg moves, and then Greg is there. A quick swipe of lubed fingers, just a slight press in with two to make sure he can and Greg’s cock is filling him. He goes slowly, pulling John over onto him rather than moving forward. It is like melting, like being melted and John isn’t breathing. 

 

Greg’s lips find the hollow behind John’s ear, whispers, “ _Thank you, John, so good. Fuck, I’m inside you. You’re so tight. So good for me._ ”

 

John inhales, exhales and moves his hips, Greg’s hands keep him steady, slow him down; force restraint until John can only groan and let Greg fuck him. John rolls his face into the mattress and moans, letting the sounds he makes be swallowed by the bed. 

 

‘None of that, don’t be shy John.” Greg’s fingers curl around John’s jaw and pull him back up into the air. 

 

“Oh, please... please Greg. It feels so good, please.” John tries to push himself back into the mattress.

 

“Shush, I’ve got you. You’re alright.” Greg’s fingers slide up, curling over John’s bottom lip and pushing into his mouth. Two and then three, John sucks them, rolls his lips over his teeth and pushes his tongue between the pads of Greg’s fingers. 

 

“Yeah, that’s my boy. God your mouth, and you’ve a glorious arse.” Greg’s fingers probe deeper into his mouth and John lets a small sound form in the base of his throat. 

 

Greg’s hips stop moving with his cock pushed as deep as it will go in John’s arse, and John whimpers around Greg’s fingers. Greg shoves his arm under John and rolls them both over onto their backs. John groans as gravity pushes him deeper onto Greg’s cock.

 

Greg moves under him, spreading John’s legs and bending his own to plant his feet on the mattress. His fingers work in John’s mouth, and his free hand finds John’s cock. The rhythm is erratic, jerky and rough and it doesn’t matter one little bit. John comes almost immediately from sensory overload, gasping around Greg’s fingers. 

 

Greg moves inside him, fucks him through the last bursting stars of his orgasm, whispering in his ear. “Yeah, that’s good... mine. John, good... so good and tight for me. Fuck you for days and days.”

 

John turns his head towards Greg, lets fingers slide past his lips and over his chin, groans as they tangle in his collar and pull at the lock. “Please... please Greg. I want to... please let me.” John’s cock is soft and spent between his legs, and Greg’s hand trails idly through the come splashed on John’s belly. “Please... tell me what you want me to do?”

 

Greg tightens his hold on John’s collar, lifts John’s leg and thrusts smoothly into him. “Yeah, fuck I want you... harder. Can I fuck you harder, John?”

 

John whimpers and grinds his hips down onto Greg’s cock. “Yeah, yeah you can, please. How?”

 

“Up. Turn over. Knees. Hands on the headboard.”

 

John complies and Greg groans as John slides off his cock. Greg pulls himself up and moves around behind John. 

 

John rests his head against his forearm as Greg pushes more lube into him, as gently as he can with fingers calloused from an ungentle lifestyle, tries not to think about what Sherlock’s fingers would feel like; longer, thinner and never ever going to happen. “ _Greg_ , please.”

 

Another squirt of lube on Greg’s cock, and he’s back inside John. Pushing, hard and deep and so fast. John’s full and his back is arching, driving his hips up and back to meet Greg’s thrusts. His strangled moan a substitute for _fuck, yes, like that, fuck me harder, fuck fuck fuck!_

 

Greg does anyway, fucks John with long hard thrusts that slap against John’s arse and bring a sharp tingle to his skin. Greg puts a hand between John’s shoulder blades, pushes him down and stretches him out. 

 

John’s breath comes in gasps and gulps, exhales that moan through his chest, but Greg has gone quiet. The bed creaks as John fights against his muscle’s weakness, fights against the pressure of Greg’s body; to stay on his knees, to keep his back straight and to be good for Greg. 

 

John’s hamstrings are sore, wrists aching when Greg pulls him up, wraps his arm around John’s hips and his fingers through John’s collar, pulling tight until John gasps for air. The sound of Greg’s orgasm is golden, sharp and warm in John’s ear, the staccato beating of Greg’s heart and hips becoming the only sensation in John’s universe. Greg’s teeth catch at John’s earlobe. “ _Mine._ ”

 

“Yes, yours.” John’s voice cracks under the pressure of Greg’s hand on his collar. 

 

Greg doesn’t let go, holds tight as he rides the last of his orgasm into John.  He pulls John down to sit in his lap and presses hard biting kisses against John’s shoulder until he stops shaking. Greg buries his face between John’s shoulders, loosens his fingers from John’s collar. “Fuck. Sorry. That was a bit more intense than I... planned.”

 

“No. Don’t be.” Greg’s cock is still hard in John, John’s blood is pulsing with the fire of Greg’s pleasure. “It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manly relationship negotiation.
> 
> Sherlock is an asexual aromantic. That's just the way it is.
> 
> Many thanks to [Consulting_Smartass](http://archiveofourown.org/users/consulting_smartass/pseuds/consulting_smartass) for just being her amazing self and putting up with me (also because she is amazing at beta-work and i don't heap enough love on her)

They have done this before, after Greg’s divorce, but before their “arrangement.” Sat together, not often, but enough that it isn’t out of character for them. In the rare breaks between cases and when Greg has a night off. Just sat on the couch like mates and watched rugby. 

 

Lately though, if there is spare time, they have been using it to meet, either at Greg’s flat or at the club. So right now, sitting on the couch like mates feels like something entirely different. 

 

“Sherlock’s out.”

 

Greg doesn’t say anything, just puts his arm up over the back of the couch, behind John’s head. It is entirely John’s decision whether or not to slide over the four inches between them, the distance between mates sharing a couch and… well. There is something surreal about watching sport with his head resting on Greg’s shoulder. It feels quiet, peaceful, at least until their team scores the winning try with only seconds remaining and they both jump from the couch and punch the air. 

 

The sportsmanly show of affection ends with John’s arms wrapping around Greg’s shoulders, and Greg pulling John close, fingers splayed over John’s arse, digging furrows into the fabric of John’s jeans. That can’t particularly be counted as surprising, but it is the first time they’ve spontaneously ended up in this position. Their agreement has always been carefully negotiated before hand. 

 

“Greg.”

 

“How long until Sherlock gets back?”

 

“Not long at all, I’d say.”

 

John jumps, pulling back from Greg at the sound of Sherlock’s voice. _Bloody kitchen door._ Greg catches him before he can pull away altogether but he manages to turn to face Sherlock. Watches as Sherlock pulls his gloves free and tucks them into his pockets. 

 

“Really, Lestrade. I’m hardly going to contest your _claim._ There’s no need for the posturing. Even if I did see him first.”

 

Greg’s hand doesn’t move from John’s shoulder, and John resists the urge to shrug him off. 

 

“Sherlock, Greg… there’s no claim.” 

 

Sherlock gives John one of the pitying looks he usually reserves for clients. “Stop pretending to be an imbecile John. It doesn’t suit you. Of course it started as casual sex, and Lestrade’s a handy Dom to have around… doesn’t put any demands on your time, scratches that _itch._ You turned down that… I’ve deleted her already, except that you turned her down.”

“She was a sadist! I didn’t turn her down, I ran screaming!”

 

“And you bought that shiny new lock for your collar. Very modern of you, offering Lestrade your exclusive usage, without having to wear something that would be recognized as his. You do realize everyone will assume it’s mine?”

 

Greg’s fingers tighten on John’s shoulder, pain that actually feels pleasant in the tense muscles of John’s neck. John’s knees buckle, he catches himself before he manages to slide to the floor. 

 

“You were going to give me a lock for your collar?”

 

John sighs, half laugh, half pained defeat. “Still am. It isn’t because she scared me… And it’s fine, you don’t have to. Sherlock’s right, everyone will think it is his, but I’d know, and you’d know.”

 

Sherlock tosses his coat over the back of John’s chair. “I’d know as well, I suppose.” He settles in his chair, not breaking eye contact with Lestrade. 

 

“You aren’t jealous?” Greg doesn’t sound surprised, but John is. Sherlock’s gone out of his way to dismantle all of John’s previous relationships. 

 

“You are doing me a favour, Lestrade. Sooner or later John would have snapped. He’d have left, or demanded that I sleep with him… and then he would leave. He’d be disappointed and the work would suffer. This way… we all respect the work, I’d rather you didn’t…” Sherlock gestures between them. “In the flat, but if you must I can have some soundproofing installed in John’s room. Or arrange something with Mrs. Hudson for use of 221C. Although I should think you will want to do something about the damp.”

 

“Hang on. I am actually in the room. Do I get a say in this? I wasn’t going to ask you to sleep with me.”

 

Sherlock’s gaze flickers briefly to John. “I was under the impression this was your idea, John. I’ll be kind, you want me, that’s a part of why you stay, _mostly_ it’s the danger. The truth simply put, John, you want me to want you too. I don’t. You’d have asked, eventually. I’m not a good man, John. I would… Well there are things I am prepared to accept to keep you with me. You need an emotional connection, I’m not capable of giving you that.”

 

“You’re not a sociopath, Sherlock!”

 

Sherlock waves off the interruption, flicking John’s words away with his fingertips. “Perhaps not, but I lack a set of emotional responses… or a set of sexual attractions. I would fake it, take a pill and let you think I was having my way with you. And you would hate me for it. This is cleaner and _kinder_.” Sherlock nearly spits the last word, eyes flashing between Lestrade and John. 

 

Greg’s hand falls away from John’s shoulder, leaving a rapidly cooling impression of contact. 

 

John digs in his pocket and pulls out a tiny silk bag, fingers becoming clumsy on the ties, frustrated tight sound in his throat. The tiny lock and key that fall free are free of ornament, solid brass body and stainless steel shackle. John had agonized over it for hours in the shop, middle of the road, a step above the cheap locks that kids gave to their first subs, but not approaching the diamond encrusted ‘lifetime locks’ that didn’t even have keys. “I’m not asking.” He clears his throat and looks away, cataloguing the dents and scratches in the back of the sitting room door. 

 

The tiny weight is lifted from his hand, first the lock and then the key. 

 

“John.” 

 

He doesn’t mean to turn his head and look at Sherlock, but once he does he can’t look away. 

 

“The work, first.” Sherlock leans back, crosses his legs and steeples his fingers under his chin.

 

Greg’s fingers close the latch on John’s collar, the tiny snick of the key in the lock loud in the room. “John, it’s just…”

 

“Yes, just this. The work first, for all of us.” John breaks away from Sherlock’s gaze and looks up at Greg, manages to return Greg’s half smile. 

 

The sound of the lock closing is almost muffled by Greg’s hand, but it still manages to send a thrum of pleasure through John. His eyes slip half closed and he allows himself a moment to savour the sense of belonging.

 

Half a beat later he shakes himself, pulling himself back up. “Right. Tea?”

 

“I’ll have something a bit stronger I think.” Greg smiles as he says it.

 

“Tea is fine for me… there’s been a blackmail attempt against Lady Smallwood, Mycroft has asked me to look into it.”

 

“Anything I need to worry about?” Greg drops his hands from John’s collar and settles back onto the sofa.

 

“Ridiculous, someone is trying to shame her for her husband’s previous Dom being a man. Shouldn’t take more than the evening to sort out.”

 

Greg sighs and shakes his head as John turns to the kitchen to put the kettle on. “Some people.”

 

Sherlock grunts, already engrossed in his phone, and John smiles.

 


End file.
